


The Demise of Gotham

by Riverhuntress



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverhuntress/pseuds/Riverhuntress
Summary: Gotham is now at peace after the late Mayor of Gotham had unleashed chaos into the city. Hiding in the shadows, Oswald Cobblepot decides to add his own chaos for revenge. No one messes with the penguin and gets away with it.





	1. Girl in the Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Internet People, this is my first time posting stories. I also realize that this chapter seems a lot shorter than when I typed it, but the rest will get longer probably with chapter 3. So if you ever do run into this story, I welcome any comments. Enjoy reading!

Arkham City Cemetery

"I am King of Gotham now, mother. I wish you were here to see my glorious triumph of this wretched city that gave us nothing but heartache. I will turn the city to see a new page for where there is light, there is always darkness." Oswald Cobblepot spoke softly tracing his finger around his mother's name.

It has been ten years since the city had been taken over by Theodore Galavan and since Galavan had murdered his mother in front of him, the chaos had finally quieted. He grasped the edge of the tomb and breathed in deeply trying to hold his composure. His mother hated to see her son upset and even though she is no longer physically around, he still tried to show up to her grave with a smile. It may have been grim, but it was a smile nonetheless. The time passing had made him grown more ruthless and vengeful. After the chaos he went away, and he waited for the moment to rise again. No matter how long it took, he waited, and now his time has come. They will pay, he thought to himself. 

There had been a light drizzle a moment before it had been replaced by drops the size of bullets. Oswald had not bothered to bring his umbrella as it reminded him of business which he never spoke of with his mother. So this is what it must feel like not to have an umbrella, he thought with a humorless chuckle. He welcomed the cold wet drops as he looked toward the gray skies. He was to become a new man. Gotham citizens will rue the day they had not sided with him. "They will pay," He repeated aloud and paused choking back a sob. Then he continued, "for all the pain and misery they caused us. Gotham will be in pain, those who have wronged us and those who might in the future. And while I am still alive each and every one of them will suffer to their last dying breath." He wiped his eyes not knowing anymore if it were the rain or his own tears. "I may have avenged you, but my job is far from over. James Gordon who was supposed to be a friend, had done things that are unforgivable, and forgive me mother, but also bad for business. Oh mother if you could see me now. Your son on top of the wor-"

Snap!

He heard a branch snap and quickly turned his head toward the sound. Oswald could only see a figure in the dark and decided to finish speaking with his mother before he went after the person who disturbed his peace. "Alright mother, I have to go now, but I will be back soon. And I hope that I am still able to make you proud." He leaned into the tombstone and gently kissed the top. He got up from the ground and dusted himself off. Oswald began to walk towards the sound recovering to his normal self, but as he walked he felt different. A new feeling had taken over him: a feeling of vengeance without mercy.

****

Her mother used to tell her not to wander out at night alone, but of course what young adult still listens to their parents? She had gone out to meet up with her friends, when a stranger in the alley attacked her. It had been the typical mugging where he and her did a tug of war with her purse, but the attacker did not leave her unharmed. A sharp object pierced through her skin and she cried in agony as the object, which she realized was a knife plunged deeper into her midsection. He took out the knife and ran away leaving as quickly as he came. Her breath quickened in fear as she felt a hot sticky liquid pouring through her dress and used her left hand to balance herself by a wall. If she stayed any longer, she would die, and with all of her strength, gritting her teeth; she leaned off the wall and ran in any direction for help.

Now she had ended up in the Arkham City cemetery blinded by the tears in her eyes and an arm around her waist trying to stop the incessant bleeding. The jacket she put around the wound would hold, but for how long she did not know. She shivered as the rain became heavier. The young adult went to the nearest grave and leaned keeping herself upright. As she looked up, she saw a lamppost shining on a man wearing a black suit and he appearing as a ghostly figure against the light. She felt her heart explode with relief knowing she was not alone, but then she heard the stranger speak. "They will pay mother," The voice belonged to a man, a man with grief. She wondered in curiosity about who were "they" that he spoke of and she momentarily forgot about her pain as she listened closely. She noticed there was a silence, but then he continued. " For all the pain and misery they caused us. Everyone in Goth-." She started to panic for fear that she was here at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was already bleeding half to death, would he just kill her on the spot? Even though her eyes were seeing spots, she knew she had to leave.

Snap!

She cursed silently and the fear set in at the sight of his head turning quickly in her direction. She prayed silently that he did not see her. People in Gotham were strange and dangerous, and she found that out with first hand experience. Nonetheless she hoped he did since she also needed help. She heard him say something quietly not able to make out any words, and even with all the heavy rain pattering on them, she was still able to hear his footsteps, well more of a foot stepping and another one being dragged nearing to her location. Silence filled the air again, except for the noise of nature, and she felt her chest tighten. "I don't know who you are, nor do I care, but I despise eavesdroppers." Her blood, whatever that was left inside her body turned to ice. "I do not have patience for people who disrupt my conversation time with my mother. Now come out now, and you may not have to worry about the 'or else' part." He spoke with an impatient tone. His voice was closer almost above her grave. She groaned, feeling a wave of nausea and she wanted to kick herself, if she was not feeling any pain for letting out her position. "Look, I know you are there." He called out indicating he was not going anywhere. She decided that she had no other choice but to stand, and she used any strength she had left and got up to her feet. Her head felt light as she stumbled to find her footing. "See now was that so hard?" His tone became icier with every word he spoke.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it, I already encountered the first half." She spoke in an attempt to sound brave but instead a shaky voice emerged.

***

Oswald wished that a street scum or a crook emerged, so that he could kill them the way he declared a few moments ago. However what appeared from behind the grave was a young girl. He could not have seen her from his mother's grave, but now with a lamppost with the dim light on her, he could see fear in the girl's brown eyes. Her blonde hair was now darkened and sticking to her face by the rain. At first he was taken by surprise by her response, but as he looked down he saw a jacket covered with blood. Oswald usually did not help strangers unless he needed something in return, but he could not keep her here. If she died the police would be all over the place and the news would be in constant chatter. He knew that they would knock on his door and he could not have his plans tarnished by a nameless girl. He smirked at her amused. "I was going to," He replied coolly and enjoyed the scared expression on her face, "on the other hand," he continued, "I have important things to do and as it pains me to say it, your death will interfere with my plans."

"You're sick, you know that?" The girl looked up at him and she stepped forward no longer in fear but as if to taunt him, and even though she tried to hide it, he could see the pain as she held her waist.

"Well I could leave you here, you are of no importance to me, but you seem to value your life. If you had no care, you probably would be right where you were attacked." She fell silent and he cursed under his breath wishing that he could just leave her. The stakes were high and if he ever fell under the surface, he was done for good. "Alright, tell me your name and how you ended up like this. We do not want this to be included in the section of kidnapping."

"Harleen Quinzel. I was out with some friends and we stayed out late. I was walking home alone when I-" She winced and gasped sharply. "Sorry, when I was attacked and it was strange. He did try to take my purse but he didn't do it to steal anything. I felt anger as he stabbed me and it was almost as if he had experience knowing enough to hurt, not to kill. I think there is something wrong with him, other than the stabbing. Before he left I was able to see his face briefly and he had a deep scar running down his right cheek to the corner of his mouth."

"That is interesting. You've been stabbed and here you are giving me a psychoanalysis on a stranger." He inquired amused. 

"I have a degree in psychology and now I intern at the Arkham Asylum. Now if you don't mind I would like some help now." She let herself falter and on instinct he caught her by the shoulders. He was initially bent on revenge, well he still was, but he felt something for this girl and wasn't quite sure what it was. He carried her in his arms and looked down to see her eyes closed but she still had a light pulse. He smirked to himself. The plan had changed a bit, but only just a bit. He had found the perfect thing that would keep Gotham in eternal darkness.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finally have been able to post this chapter. I know I took too long and it was difficult to get inspiration and also to keep myself from quitting early and abandoning this piece. Hopefully I will be more consistent with updating for the later chapters and hopefully after that obstacle the ideas will start flowing and with any luck, endlessly. Anyways enjoy and feel free to leave comments or kudos.

Oswald Cobblepot's Mansion three days later

Harleen opened her eye slowly, staring up at a white ceiling. She felt her heart race. Was she in a hospital? Out of fear she jerked up too quickly, greeted by a wave of nausea. After she calmed down, she scanned her surroundings. There was a night stand next to her bed, a desk in the left corner. She looked farther left to see the view of the city from the window. This is not the hospital, she thought frowning. A moment later her memories flooded back to her. She flipped a set of black blankets to see that she no longer was in her bloodied clothes. Harleen had been dressed in striped pajamas. She raised the nightshirt to find that her wound was cleaned and even stitched. "Oh you're awake. Just in time for some tea." She heard a voice from a far and looked up to see a man in a suit. He was the man from the cemetery. He was the same man that might have saved her life. That thought should have comforted her, but it only made her feel uneasy.

"I guess I could ask what happened, but I don’t think it matters at this point."  
"Good, because you are going to be working for me, from now on. " The man replied blatantly.  
She did not like where this was headed. Of course, she had to be taken in by a psycho-path. Is there no one normal in Gotham? “I don’t think that will be necessary, because I am leaving.” She spoke as calmly as she could. Harleen had gotten out of bed scavenging for her stuff and tried not to panic when she could not find any of it.

“If you are looking for your clothes, we had to dispose of them because, well no one would want to wear anything in that hideous state. And if I were you I would think carefully before speaking again.” Harleen froze as the man stepped closing the distance between them. Her gaze never left his face. She wanted to run past him, to speak out again, but there was something familiar about the look in his eyes that made her stay. When he took her silence as compliance, he retreated to window leaning against the wall. “Let’s say that you owe me for saving your life. I own you now and as my property, anywhere that you go is only by my command. You are no longer to return to your former life,” the man spoke like a mother grounding her child. “I hope that clears up any confusion, or maybe it added more. Doesn’t matter either way.” 

Her eyes widened. There was no way that he could keep her in whatever place they were in. She would have been frightened even more than she already was, if she did not know the man who stood in front of her. Harleen looked him up and down, scanning his appearance. She remembered reading newspapers gazing upon a few photographs of the man. He always wore black and white making his skin paler and his eyes cold enough to freeze anyone that dared to look at him. Oswald Cobblepot was a big name around Gotham. It had been rumored that he killed the mayor and it was also circulating that his business resided in the mob. He had done a lot of things while she was still in high school. He was a dangerous man; anyone could tell her that. Although she should have kept her mouth shut, she held her stance and asked “What if I refuse?”

“Well of course I am going to kill you,” he laughed coldly, “I can’t just let you leave, I have a reputation to maintain.” He gestured at his suit.  
Harleen had a feeling he would say that, giving her a bit of confidence. Now that she knew who he was, she was not going to let him scare her that easily. She rolled her eyes at his last words. “What reputation, you went into hiding and everyone else has made a mockery out of you. Your threats are meaningless even breaking a mirror seems a lot scarier.”  
“You think you are so funny, but let me remind you of a couple of things my dear. I poisoned people with canolies and I killed a man just for his shoes. So, you have no idea what I am capable of.” His face grew darker, his voice more impatient on the edge of anger. 

Harleen became intrigued and wanted to know more. She still had a thesis paper to write for her Grad school. That should have been the last thing on her mind, but she was not most people. If she saw an opportunity that would help her gain some importance to her, she was going to take it, no matter how large or dangerous the risks. Harleen already accepted putting her life on the line when she first entered the Asylum for an internship. She forgot for a moment that she wanted to leave, looking him up and down the questions swirling in her head. What would he have done to hide himself up like this? If he had reasons for all those deaths, what were they and how much of them were for the job and how much were personal? Her excitement diminished as fast as it rose when she noticed he had his arms crossed watching her warily, his expression unchanged. “Look I still don’t get why I am here, and from what you just told me, it sounds more like you acted like a drastic bully. Why don’t you go cry to your mother? She probably even regrets having a son- “He slapped her in the face, she fell silent, her cheek throbbing from the stinging. 

“Don’t ever mention my mother again.” he grabbed her by the shoulders and harshly shoved her to the side. She fell, her legs tucked underneath her. She felt a hand grasp her face forcing her to look up. “If you undermine me again, do not think I would not find someone to harm your family.” Harleen saw the hurt in his eyes for a fraction of a moment replaced by his usual cold distant look. 

“Well you won’t have to worry, someone already got to my parents.” Harleen retorted. She thought she saw his expression soften, but if it was there it did not last long. He only stared down at her in silence. She bit back from saying more afraid that her next response would anger him more. She already was satisfied with his reaction, there was no need to poke the bear further.  
Oswald turned around facing the door. Right before he exited he said his voice hardening, “When you are done, come downstairs, tea doesn’t taste good when it is cold.”  
**********************  
Oswald had walked away perfectly composed, but when he reached the dining room he was angry all over again. She should have been grateful that he did not leave her out to die. She should have been bowing at his feet, compliant and ready to serve, just like the others he had used.  
You went into hiding and everyone has made a mockery out of you. Her words echoed in his mind. He clenched his hand around his chair. Who does she think she is? He knew he should not let whatever he says get to her, but his old memories that he thought he buried deep were resurfacing. 

At first he hated being called the Penguin because people he met through the old nightclub would comment on the way he walked, He remembered the woman he worked for, Fish Mooney had always thought of him as pathetic and weak making him her personal slave. He had gotten his revenge by making the two mobs be at war with each other. Oswald shook his head dissipating his thoughts. He would not go back to how he was before. There were people more ruthless than him. He was abused, threatened and overworked, but all he could do was bide his time and obey. 

“Oswald.” He was now on top and he there will be nothing to stop him from what he promised his mother. Consumed by his thoughts he did not look up until a voice repeated his name.

“hm?” He paused from stirring his tea, or whatever was left in the cup. He did not realize someone else had entered the room. 

“Uh sorry to disturb you, but aren’t you going a bit off track here. When you said, you wanted to take over Gotham, I expected to see extreme mayhem, not being a caretaker for a random woman.” He continued to stare at his cup, not turning to the quirky masculine voice.

“I know what I’m doing, I don’t recall asking for your input.” His bitterness not yet dissipated. 

“I just want to make sure that you are thinking this through, that’s all. If we are working together, I can’t let you go in doing things on a whim.” The voice was closer now as it found its way to stand in front of Oswald. 

“I can handle thi- Ed what the hell are you wearing?” He looked up at the man not bothering to hide the shocked expression in his voice. He eyed the green suit before him, appalled, saying, “You look ridiculous. Why is it that you needed to find something to wear again? We are not superheroes and before you say anything, no we are not making an Injustice League.” 

Nygma scoffed. “Says the guy who dresses like it is his funeral every day. Every person needs a new look for their identity. Edward Nygma forensics for the Gotham PD does not exist anymore, the Riddler exists in Gotham now. Of course, you are just jealous that you have not thought of something as cool as this.” He propped up his collar earning an eye roll from Oswald. 

“Well the Grammar school called but couldn’t ask for anything because someone stole all the question marks.” 

“Okay I don’t mind criticism but if you are going to be outright insul-” Nygma began to say but Cobblepot silenced him with a raise of a hand. 

“Wait, wait. I just thought of another one the whorehouse just called, they want their pimp back.”  
Nygma pinched the bridge of his nose, “As I meant to finish, if you are going to be outright insulting, a simple ‘this doesn’t look good on you, go change’ would’ve done just as well.”

Oswald smirked. “Alright fine, but I just had to point out how absurd it is. I mean what exactly is it that you do? Are you like a question thief or do you ask people questions to death?” He leaned back resting his arm on top of another chair. A napkin absently crushed in his fist, his attention fully on his odd partner.  
“No I pull off crimes that make people wonder or “question how I did it”.” 

“Right, and is that glitter on all those question marks? Come on Nygma this is not a fashion show. Jeez that explains why this table is covered with disgustingly colorful assortments.”

“You know, usually you barely say a few words to me, should I be concerned?” Nygma teased.  
Now that he thought about it, it did seem a little strange that he decided to engage in exchanging words with Nygma. Edward Nygma was not necessarily a friend of Oswald’s and they were not partners that much either. Oswald would not admit out loud, but he would have been dead if Nygma had not helped him out. He stuck with him because they both had similar ideas of the direction of Gotham and became closer acquaintances. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it. In any case, you’re bothering me now. So, if you are going to sit then do so or else get out of my face.” He watched Nygma shrug locating a chair. 

“Umm, excuse me.” A soft feminine voice came out from behind Nygma. 

“Ah goody you’re here. Take this seat here.” Nygma quickly circled around, pulling out the chair a little too excitedly. Oswald knew when Nygma sounded too joyful that a plan was being concocted in his insane head. He had no idea what he was thinking which is why he kept him around.  
Oswald coughed catching their attention. “Both of you sit.” Nygma sent him an apologetic glance as they both pulled out their seats and sat.  
Oswald’s gaze fell onto the blonde girl, she looked up at him, her light green eyes staring cautiously into his own. “I need you to bring me files from the asylum.” 

“What for?” She asked copying his tone.

“That is none of your concern.” 

“Of course, but what if I were to give you the wrong files, you don’t seem like the type that likes their time being wasted.” She left his gaze to reach for a small cake. Her gaze returned with a different emotion he could not quite make out.  
He watched her take a bite. He did not think she would be difficult. What would she gain from putting on the bravado? Usually others would already be full blown in tears praying that he does not kill them on the spot. Then again for someone who was told they were being used, this response was no surprise.  
Harleen poured and sipped her tea, tilting her head thoughtfully to one side. She had to maintain her cool, although the situation was a tad bit irritating. Her gaze shifted to the other gentleman. It was creepy watching him gleefully dissecting a strawberry frosted pastry. “Why don’t you just ask him to do it, he seems quite capable.” She had difficulty keeping the disgust from her face as a white fluffy cream seemed to ooze out and his giddiness increased. Was he imagining a victim?

“Until I am measured, I am not known. Yet how you miss me, when I have flown.” He snapped up his head and his expression chilled her insides. She glanced back at Oswald and cocked an eyebrow. 

“You have to answer him or else he won’t stop looking at you like that.” He rested his head on his palm disinterested. 

“Okay.” She tapped her chin repeating the riddle silently. Her chest tightened at the thought of not getting it right. It was not that she was bad at puzzles but it took her a while to get an answer. If only she had more- wait a minute, she thought to herself.

“Yet how you miss me…” she repeated with a dawning realization. “Time.” She said a second later. Her gaze toward the man in green, she held her breath. Would they do anything to her if she got it wrong? It must be right because ironically she was pining for it. 

“Exactly, so you see I have important matters to attend to and cannot afford to waste a minute on menial work.” He casually replied. At first she thought the penguin was strange, but this person was very odd. 

“So who are you?” She asked not bothering to hide the confusion in her voice. 

“Ah let me introduce myself, I am Edward Nygma. Also, known as the Riddler.” The other dark haired gentleman stood up and gestured to his suit. 

“So that’s what you are.” She heard Oswald murmur. His “friend” seemed to not have heard.

“And as I have a villain name, that qualifies in being above a messenger. You see why it has to be you?”

“Of course since I don’t have a ridiculous name and bad taste in clothing, I totally understand.” The sarcasm evident in her voice. What kind of circus show did she fall into? This is Gotham after all, I shouldn’t be surprised.

“If you remember what happened this morning, I suggest you change your tone.” Oswald warned.  
She glanced his way and shrugged with a “but it’s true” expression. Noticing her tea was cold she figured it would be good to exit. “In any case, I’ll do it. Lucky for you I go back to work today.” And I am curious about this plan of yours. She kept the last part for herself. Harleen looked at Oswald who nodded briefly satisfied. Without looking back, she went to get ready for what should be a normal day at work. Once Harleen was out of sight, she sighed in relief at getting through the awkward eerie encounter. Now she just had to survive long enough to figure out his scheme. “I better not lose my job over this.” She said to no one in particular. 

“Hey Oswald want to hear a riddle?” Nygma broke the silence that occurred after Harleen’s departure.  
“No not real- “ 

“What’s black and white and red all over?” Nygma excitedly interrupted him. He was going to tell him no matter the response.  
Oswald stared motionlessly at Nygma as his dark eyes brightened again mischievously. He sighed in defeat. He had no idea why he indulged him. He rolled his eyes and replied with a bored expression, “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me oh wise Riddler.”

“Gladly,” he paused for a dramatic effect. “A penguin covered in blood.”  
“How very anticlimactic of you.” Oswald responded in a bored tone.

“She seems like a clever one,” Nygma ignored Oswald’s jeer, “A psychiatrist intern at the asylum is a good catch, but I suggest you watch yourself times as you know have changed. You are not as feared as you used to be, and although you have a plan who knows if you will again.”  
Oswald breathed in sharply, “As I said before I know what I’m doing, she is merely just a piece in my plan. It’s simple really, she gets me what I need, and I dispose of her when I’m done.” 

“I’ve watched you before, when you get to a certain degree of vengefulness, you tend to not think. We don’t need the GPD at our doorstep.” 

“There won’t be any, also your riddle was lame. I’ve had blood on my hands before.” Oswald watched Nygma silently rise, making the chair squeak. The echo would have made anyone uneasy but Oswald was used to it. Although he was not used to Nygma suddenly falling silent. “What it’s true, unless that was a double meaning or something, and you better change that poor excuse for a tie!” He called out after him. Still no response. Nygma’s footsteps clacked on the floor as he headed towards the stairs, leaving Oswald alone at the dining table. Well he wasn’t completely wrong, Oswald had to admit. Oswald had been in the shadows for so long, he owed it to himself to make sure nothing goes wrong. It would be a bad day in Gotham if a single drop of blood landed on his suit, a bad day indeed.


End file.
